


Role With It

by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Peter Parker, Come Swallowing, Daddykink, Doctor/Patient, Established Relationship, Father/Son Roleplay, Interrupted Sex, Laughter During Sex, Light Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Steve Rogers is a dirty talking little shit, Steve is vanilla but Peter will cure him of that just you wait, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Steve Rogers, loss of (pretend) virginity, questionable morals, stopping the scene to reassure each other because this author is Soft TM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23932753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/stfustucky
Summary: Peter loves having having sex with Steve, even if it's just your everyday average vanilla sex, but sometimes he wonders what it might be like to have a little more spice in their lives. He's got some fantasies that need exploring, and Steve loves Peter enough to follow him anywhere--even into the uncharted waters of kink. As it turns out, a little risk leads to big rewards for everyone.(5 times in which Steve and Peter brought roleplay into the bedroom + 1 time in which Steve and Peter are more than enough.)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Steve Rogers
Comments: 11
Kudos: 155





	1. Student/Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags relevant to this chapter:  
> teacher/student roleplay, semi-public sex, interrupted sex, oral sex, dirty-talking Steve Rogers, questionable morals

“Hey Steeeve?”

There’s something in the tone of Peter’s voice when he says it that automatically makes Steve a little nervous. That’s his sweetest voice, the one where he draws out Steve’s name a little bit and pairs it with an angelic smile and unfailingly asks for something, which he unfailingly gets. Not that Steve minds giving Peter what he wants-- that’s his favorite pastime in fact. It’s just that Steve is waiting for the day when Peter’s ‘I want something’ face overcomes the serum and gives Steve a heart attack.

Sure enough, when Steve lifts his head to look at Peter, he’s got that cherubic smile and his bottom lip between his teeth and Steve is already toast. His heart stutters a little and then continues to beat. Safe, for now. Safe and the luckiest man alive.

“Hey Peeeter?” Steve echoes fondly, opening his arms to Peter in the process. Peter responds immediately, folding his smaller, lighter frame into Steve where he sits on the couch. Steve wraps his arms around his love and kisses the top of his head. “What’s up?”

“So I was thinking.”

“Yeah? Thought I smelled smoke.”

“Oh shut up,” Peter laughed. “Your grandpa jokes are ruining my moment!”

“I didn’t realize we were having a moment,” Steve grinned, “my bad. The floor is yours.” He pantomimes zipping his lips, even though they can’t really see each other’s faces from this position.

“Thank you very much,” Peter primly responds. “Anyways, I was thinking, and I wanted to talk to you about something. Nothing bad, just something that I think we could do to make things better with us. Specifically in... well, in bed.”

All of the humor and lightness dissipate from the conversation in an instant and Steve feels his stomach drop with something akin to horror. “Oh, okay,” he says blankly, his promise to remain silent forgotten. He struggles to find words for the occasion, cursing his admittedly old-fashioned limitations regarding talking openly about sex. “Is it not-- I mean, are you not… satisfied?”

“Steve, I--”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve continues, chest tightening. “I thought you were enjoying yourself as much as I was. Whatever I’m doing wrong, we can work it out. _I_ can work it out, I promise.”

“Steve, shut up, no,” Peter stops him with a laugh, twisting around so he can reach up and capture Steve’s mouth in a kiss. Steve surrenders to it willingly, taking immediate comfort from the press of Peter’s lips and the presence of a slender hand on his jaw, which he covers with his own. After a moment, Peter breaks the kiss and pulls back a bit to smile sheepishly. “Sorry, I worded that really badly. No, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with our sex. Our sex is fantastic sex and I love it and I love you and I am wholly satisfied with both.”

Steve leans in to steal another quick taste of Peter’s lips for reassurance. “You sure? Because if you’re not, you can tell me.”

“I promise, we’re good,” Peter affirms. He sits a little more upright, not leaving Steve’s embrace exactly but turning so that they can see each other clearly. “No, I was talking about maybe just adding a little something extra. Some additional spice. To take it from one hundred percent awesome to like a hundred and ten. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Steve acquiesces immediately, always eager to make Peter even happier, “that sounds good. What, uh, what did you have in mind?” He’d really thought they’d ran out of new bedroom skills when Peter had introduced him to the concept of rimming --which had definitely _not_ been talked about in 1945.

“What do you think...” Peter says slowly, playing with a thread that threatened to come loose from the back of the couch. He looks up Steve nervously. “What would you think about roleplaying?”

Steve can only blink at him for a minute, because quite honestly he’d never thought about it whatsoever. “Uh,” he says brilliantly, “in sex?”

“Yeah, like if we were to come up with little scenes to play out together,” Peter nodded, still twisting at the loose thread. He drops his eyes to look at that instead of Steve as his cheeks pinken a little shyly. “I’ve never tried it before, but the idea interests me. I like the idea of us interacting in new ways. Getting to touch and experience each other on levels that we haven’t, before.”

Steve was certainly a fan of touching and experiencing Peter in whatever way he was allowed to. The past few months had been an awakening for Steve, as he embraced his sexuality for the first time thanks to his arrival in a freshly liberal world and allowed himself to fall in love with Peter Parker. Everything they’d done together had been a first for Steve, and there’d been no part of it that he hadn’t loved.

Tony had been his ‘sexual advisor’ --Tony’s words, not his-- along the way, relaying to him all of the things he’d need to know in order to ‘have fun sexy times with my protege.” As mortifying as almost every interaction with his best friend usually is, Steve is forever grateful to him for the help. He can recall now Tony clapping him on the shoulder and saying, ‘Don’t mention it, my refreshingly on-brand vanilla friend.’

Peter is looking at him expectedly now, and Steve makes himself swallow and blink just in case he hadn’t done so while he zoned out for a moment there. “I like the sound of that,” he says tentatively. “I mean, if you think you’d like it then I’m definitely willing to try. How does that all… work?”

“Well, first we would talk about it and negotiate the scene,” Peter answers, brightening a little at Steve’s willingness. “Pick what roles we wanted to play, what we did or didn’t want to happen during it, that sort of thing. And we’d both pick a safeword that we could use to signal to each other that we wanted to stop, if we’re done with it or if we aren’t enjoying it.”

Steve _does_ like the sound of that. Peter laughs at him sometimes for how frequently he checks in with Peter to make sure that he’s feeling good. So sue him if he wants to make sure he’s not fucking Peter wrong. “That sounds good. Did you… have some roles in mind?”

“Hmmm.” Peter tilts his head and considers Steve. “I maybe have an idea or two that sounds fun. Would you grow out your beard for me?”

 _I would do anything for you._ “I could be convinced,” Steve says with a grin. “I know how much you love my beard.”

“It’s still my mission in life to get you to wear one full-time. I don’t care if it ruins your golden boy image, it’s beautiful and it deserves to be adored.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Steve says fondly, and pulls Peter in for another, slightly more heated kiss. He suddenly becomes aware that the conversation has brought him to half mast, and a quick graze of his hand down Peter’s body tells him he isn’t the only one. “How about we go to bed, and you can tell me more about this idea of yours?”

“Deal,” Peter shivers. “Race you there.”

………………… 

It takes a week for Steve to grow the beard Peter wants on him, and a few days after that for Steve’s nerves about the whole thing to settle. He had admittedly needed quite a bit more convincing than he’d originally anticipated when Peter told him what he was thinking. It had taken several long conversations before Steve was assured that this was an okay thing for the both of them to want.

When Peter had suggested that they dip their toes into the water of roleplay by starting off with a student/teacher scenario, Steve had balked. Peter was so young, just a few years out of high school, and the idea of someone taking advantage of Peter in that way had repulsed Steve on a visceral level. ‘That’s why roleplay works,’ Peter had explained to him, his fingers smoothing over Steve’s jaw where it was clenched tight. ‘You get to explore that taboo dynamic, but in a safe way. I know you’d never actually take advantage of me, so we can have fun with the scenario while still knowing that there’s trust and respect between us.’ 

It was the idea of being a safe space for Peter that had softened Steve to the suggestion in the end. From there, it was all planning, and Steve _excelled_ at planning. He had found a good location --Tony’s rarely-used office in the tower with its appropriately thematic professorial desk-- and made a loose script of sorts based off of the fantasy Peter was entertaining. They both came up with safewords: Queens for Steve and Brooklyn for Peter. Steve had even assembled an outfit for himself consisting of a light blue dress shirt, darker blue tie, and khaki slacks. Together with the beard, he certainly looked the part of a teacher.

Peter had suggested that he could look around online for a nice schoolgirl uniform, then laughed delightedly when Steve’s face had instantly turned blood red. ‘Relax, I’m teasing, we don’t have to go there. Not yet, anyway,’ Peter had added as he noticed that Steve’s face wasn’t the _only_ part of his body suddenly experiencing advanced circulation. ‘Jeans and a tee shirt will probably work for now.’

Now, sitting there at Tony’s desk and waiting for Peter’s knock on the door, Steve reflects that he’s already so keyed up that just about _anything_ would work for him right now. 

He hears Peter’s footsteps in the hallway, and straightens a little in his chair. _Showtime._ He picks up a pen and starts writing nonsense words on a pad of paper he’d found as a knock sounds on the door. “Come in,” he answers, heart leaping wildly in his chest.

“Hey Mr. Rogers,” Peter says timidly, and Steve lifts his head from his faux-work to drink him in. He plays the part convincingly, standing slightly hunched in that awkward teenaged way with a backpack slung over one shoulder. The zipper is undone and several folders and a biomedical textbook threaten to spill out. Steve tries not to smile and ruin the whole thing already when he sees the art deco depiction of his shield on Peter’s tee shirt. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course, Peter, come have a seat,” Steve answers, gesturing to one of the chairs on the other side of Tony’s desk. “Shut the door behind you. And you can call me Steve now, you know. It’s after school.”

“Okay, Steve,” Peter smiles, and does as he’s bidden. He plops into one of the chairs with far less grace than Steve knows he possesses, dumping his backpack into the other. “Sorry to bother you. I just had a question about my grade.”

“Not a bother at all. What’s your question?”

“Well,” Peter begins, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. Steve notices they’re shaking a little. Excitement? Nerves? “I got a B on my last paper, and I wasn’t really happy about it. I try to get all A’s.”

“I’m sure that’s not hard for you. You’re one of the brightest young men I know.” The pleased flush on Peter’s cheeks probably isn’t entirely acting, and it warms Steve’s heart. Praising Peter doesn’t require any acting on Steve’s part, either. “But you did get a B this time, yes. Are you trying to say that I was wrong in the grade I gave you?”

“Oh, no sir!” Peter rushes to say. Steve’s cock twitches in his pants at the title. Maybe the thrill of interest shows on his face, too, because Peter says it again. “I would never say that, sir. You’re in charge, I know that. I just wish I could have done better.”

Steve turns to a stack of papers on the desk and pretends to rifle through them until he finds the one he wants. He places the paper --what appears to be some sort of report on the stock values of Stark Industries-- on the desk beside him. “Come here,” he says firmly. “Let’s take a look at this paper of yours.”

Peter obeys at once, rising from the chair and circling the desk to stand beside Steve’s chair. Steve swivels slightly so that he’s angled more towards Peter, his knees almost bracketing Peter’s legs. He taps the paper on the desk. “Does that look like an A paper to you?”

“No, sir,” Peter answers with a flush. “It-- it was a little sloppy.”

“It was. I expect better from you than sloppy, Peter. You’re too good for that.”

“I could make it up to you,” offers Peter eagerly. “Is there some sort of... extra credit I could do to convince you to raise my grade?”

Steve’s heart starts to beat a little faster. “It’s past the due date, Peter, there’s nothing you could do now to make it better.”

“Please, sir.” When he says it at the same time that he looks into Steve’s eyes like that, it’s all Steve can do to suppress a groan. “Isn’t there anything I could do? I’m good at a lot of things. There’s got to be some way I could make you happy.”

And here it is. Steve has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself before he answers. “Well, I do have one problem you could help me with.”

Slowly, carefully, he reaches down to cup his hardened cock through his slacks. That sensation, muted though it is, feels heavenly. He watches Peter track the movement with his eyes and wonders if the way Peter’s tongue flicks eagerly across his lips is involuntary. Peter’s neck gets red in a flush. “Me?”

 _Only you, forever you._ “Yes you, Peter. You’re a very beautiful boy, and I’ve always thought you had a clever mouth. I bet you could put it to use for me now. Unless you don’t want that A, of course.”

Peter doesn’t hesitate to drop to his knees between Steve’s, looking up at him and biting that lip again. “No sir, I want it. I can earn it. I can show you I deserve it, I promise.” He puts his hands shyly on Steve’s knees and looks up through his lashes at him. “I might need you to teach me,” he says quietly. “I’m a virgin, sir.”

That was _not_ part of the script and arousal hits Steve like a sucker punch. Peter is most definitely _not_ a virgin, hadn’t been a virgin when he came to Steve, even, but despite that knowledge just hearing the words had a visceral effect on Steve. He placed one of his hands on top of Peter’s and dragged it up his thigh until Peter was squeezing gently at Steve’s cock. “That’s okay,” he pants out, remembering to keep the scene rolling. “I don’t mind. I-- I like that.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s eyes are suddenly sharp on Steve’s in a way that definitely isn’t in character.

“Yeah,” Steve chokes out, and the blush on his face isn’t either. “Go ahead, take my cock out, Peter. Show me you deserve a grade change.”

And then the scene continues, Peter fumbling with Steve’s belt and fly as if he’d never undressed anyone before. He pulls the khakis and Steve’s boxer-briefs down enough that his cock springs free, the elastic from the waistband settling snugly beneath Steve’s balls. He’s obscenely hard, a dark red color accented by a pearly drop of precome at the tip that starts to run downward under Peter’s watchful eye.

“What do I do, sir?” Peter asks, looking up at Steve expectantly.

“Hold it in your hand, first,” Steve instructs breathily, and as keyed up as he is, he flinches a little when Peter’s warm, soft hand wraps around him. “There we go. Stoke it a little. Do you touch your cock at home, Peter?”

Peter gives him a few glorious strokes. “Yes sir. Whenever I think of you.”

_Jesus fucking Christ._

“Is that why you’re turning sloppy work in to me?” Steve groans. “Too busy laying in your bed thinking about me and making yourself come?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I think about you all day…”

“Don’t apologize for it,” Steve breathes, “make up for it. Put me in your mouth, Peter.”

He has to shut his eyes as his cock is enveloped with warmth and wetness, because Peter looks good on his knees and he asked for a scene, god damn it, not an Olympic sprint. Regardless, this won’t take long. Peter’s got a mouth that’s either heaven or hell, depending on how you look at it, and he knows how to play Steve like a fiddle. Steve is never anything but putty in his hands-- or on his tongue.

But Peter is playing his part to perfection, every bit the blushing virgin as he drags his mouth gracelessly up and down Steve’s shaft. He lets his teeth graze clumsily along the length a few times, and Steve finds that he doesn’t hate it. Peter pushes down too far, giving in to a gag that he ordinarily would have fought right through, and pulls off of Steve’s cock with a shudder. “Sorry, sir,” he says meekly. There’s a trail of spit between the tip and his mouth.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Steve answers on instinct, then scrambles for his character. “I mean-- you were right. I do need to teach you. Give me your hand, since you can’t fit me all in your mouth.”

He guides Peter’s hand to wrap around the base of his cock to stroke it, then takes a handful of Peter’s hair --and _fuck,_ the whimper that elicits-- and brings his mouth back to Steve’s cock. “There we go. Keep working it, mouth and hand together. Just-- fuck, yes, just like that. You’re getting the hang of it. Don’t forget, you have another hand, too. What do you think you could be doing with that?”

Peter’s other hand came up to cup Steve’s balls, and Steve sees stars along the edges of his vision when he rolls them clumsily. “Perfect,” he gasps out, “very good, Peter. Give me a little more suction, like you’re-- _yes,_ exactly like that. You might just convince me that you deserve this after all.”

Just like that Peter’s pace increases, the bobbing of his head speeding up as he works Steve’s cock. He’s still feigning innocence, not deepthroating him or flicking his tongue across Steve’s slit as he normally would, but it doesn’t matter. Steve feels his orgasm building rapidly anyways, unable to resist Peter’s charms regardless of what form they came in.

He’s so lost in the sensation that he almost misses the sounds coming from the hallway, but his serum-enhanced senses take over and alert him to the coming danger. “Shit. The, uh, principal is coming,” he blurts out.

Peter’s brow furrows and he pulls off. “The what, sir?”

“You know, Principal _Stark,”_ Steve prompts.

Those warm brown eyes go wide with understanding all at once. Peter looks around them as if searching for an answer, and finds it in the dark recesses of the cubby beneath the desk. He twists himself with spider-like fluidity until he’s tucked beneath it, then spins Steve’s chair and pulls him in so that Steve’s knees bracket him once more. “Holy fuck,” Steve croaks. Surely Peter didn’t mean to--

“I can be quiet, sir, I promise,” Peter says from beneath the desk, and goes right back to sucking Steve’s cock.

Steve doesn’t have any time to argue-- doesn’t know if he would even if he could-- because just then, the door to the office opens and a tired-looking Tony Stark spills in. He startles at the sight of Steve sitting in his chair, at his desk, in his office. “Fancy meeting you here, Captain Creepo. What’s got you lurking in my office? Not that I mind, of course, mi casa es su casa.”

“Tony, hey, sorry,” Steve says, trying to keep his voice steady. He can feel Peter’s tongue wiggling slightly on the underside of his cock. “I was, uh, writing something. Thought maybe if I sat at a real desk it would help to-- you know.”

“Get the creative juices flowing?” Tony suggests helpfully.

 _Some kind of juices, anyways._ “Yeah, something like that,” Steve laughs breathily. “Is that okay?”

“Whatever floats your boat, pal. You know I hate working at a desk, so mine is free for your use. I just came in here to grab a--” Tony turns to a cabinet and rummages loudly in it for a second. Good timing, since Peter chooses then to slurp a little on Steve’s cock. Tony emerges triumphant with a roll of blueprints in his hand. “Aha! Victory is mine. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

 _Thank the lord._ “Good, glad you found it. I’ll see you later.”

Tony is just about to leave again with a distracted wave when he suddenly turns and cocks his head at Steve. “Just out of curiosity, what exactly are you in here writing?” He moves towards the desk, leaning over to look at the pad of paper in front of Steve. “I’m assuming sonnets about Peter Parker’s ass?”

Steve quickly flips the pad over so that Tony can’t see the senseless scribbles and does his best not to moan at the way Peter had suckled hard at the tip of his cock at the sound of his own name. “Letter to a senator,” he blurts out. “About, uh… education.”

Tony’s interest is effectively lost. “Nerd,” he accuses, backing away. “Just kidding, except not really. Let me know if you need some money to throw at a cause, though. Actually, don’t, let Pepper know. You know what I mean. Bye Cap!”

The door slams behind him, and Steve pushes back from the desk half a second later. Peter does his best to crawl forward with the motion without losing his hold on Steve’s cock. “Take your hands off,” Steve instructs abruptly, voice cracking a little. Peter’s eyes open as he obeys, a little flicker of confusion passing through them, and Steve notices that one hand goes to cup his own cock through his jeans and rub roughly at the bulge there. “You’re unbelievable, Peter Parker. You were so good at staying quiet while I talked to T-- to the principal. I think you’ve just about earned your A. Open your mouth up as wide as you can and let me do the rest.”

Peter’s eyes close then as he understands, and his mouth relaxes beautifully as he stills. Steve places his hands on either side of Peter’s head and pushes his cock forward, pressing deeper into Peter’s mouth. He’s very glad in that moment that Peter _isn’t_ a virgin, because the way he kneels so beautifully and lets Steve fuck his face isn’t something Steve would trade for the world.

He slides a thumb into the side of Peter’s mouth to stop him from accidentally closing his mouth when he gags, moving his cock in and out across Peter’s tongue with increasing urgency. “We’ve got to get you back on track, Peter,” he pants as he moves. “Can’t have you distracted like this. Wouldn’t want your grades to suffer just because you need my cock.” Peter whimpers and shudders, whole body jerking. “Maybe you ought to come by my office after school every day, so I can make sure you get the help that you need. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

Peter attempts to give some sort of assent, the noise humming in his throat before being choked off by another intrusion by the tip of Steve’s cock, and that’s it for Steve. He pulls out abruptly, one hand fisting Peter’s hair and tilting his head back while the other he uses to stroke his cock roughly. Peter’s eyelashes flutter open for a second before closing resolutely, already knowing what was coming next.

Steve groans as he paints Peter’s face with ropes of white, hardly any of it making into Peter’s waiting mouth in Steve’s urgency. Peter laps it up eagerly, tongue swiping through the mess on his lips, sucking greedily at the taste. Steve indulges him as he finally shudders out the last of his orgasm, resting the tip of his cock against Peter’s lips and letting him lick the final vestiges of come off of Steve’s flushed skin.

They both breathe heavily in the silence for a moment, Steve slumping back into the chair. He could drink in this sight all day. Peter’s eyelids flicker like he’s considering opening his eyes, though, so Steve leans forward once more and takes him by the chin. “Wait,” he instructs, “you’re a mess. Better clean you up a bit before you go. Can’t have everyone knowing how you earn all your points.”

Peter shivers again, but says nothing as Steve takes the end of his tie and swipes the silk through the mess he’d left on Peter’s face. It doesn’t do the job well, telltale smears of come still smudged across his skin, but that somehow makes him no less beautiful when he opens his eyes and looks up at Steve glassily. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve breathes.

They both rise to their feet, and Steve barely has time to tuck himself back inside his pants before he has to reach out to steady Peter as he sways on his feet. “Brooklyn,” Peter murmurs, “kiss me?”

“God yes,” Steve agrees, hurrying to do so. He makes a note that the next scene they do should definitely involve kissing, because resisting the urge to do so for more than a few minutes at a time is a strain even for a super soldier. “You okay? Was that--?”

“That was amazing, holy shit,” Peter assures him in between kisses. “That was so fucking hot. I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.”

“You--?” Steve pulls back in surprise and looks down Peter’s body to the wet spot on his jeans that Steve is only just now noticing. “Jesus. You came in your pants. That’s… in character,” he says with a laugh.

“Happened somewhere around the time you insinuated that I needed your cock so bad it was making me stupid,” Peter teased, poking Steve in the stomach accusingly. “You did _not_ warn me that you knew how to dirty talk, Steve Rogers!”

“You didn’t warn me that you were an exhibitionist, Mr. Who-Cares-If-Someone-Walks-In,” Steve fires right back. “I almost lost it.”

Peter does not have the decency to pretend like he’s not very self-satisfied about the whole thing. “To be fair, I’m not sure it’s really exhibitionism unless someone actually watches. But maybe next time, yeah? I mean, if… you _want_ a next time.” He looks at Steve questioningly, hopefully.

Steve pulls him for another slow kiss. “Yeah, I think a next time could be arranged.”


	2. Father/Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags relavant to this chapter:  
> father/son roleplay, daddykink, loss of (pretend) virginity, spanking, aftercare, breaking scene to reassure each other beacuse this author is Soft TM, oral sex, fingering, anal sex, Steve Rogers is a dirtytalking little shit and don't let anyone tell you different

“You can’t be serious about this, Peter.”

“Straight porn has been doing the whole stepdaughter angle for decades. What, now it’s weird just because there’s multiple dicks involved?”

“I just… I don’t see what it is about this that’s attractive to you.”

“Well, it’s a scene that we can do at home, no special costumes or props…”

“Mmhmm.”

“And it’s all about you being someone who loves me and takes care of me and would do anything for me.”

“Well, I do like  _ that…” _

“Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s normal to call your dad ‘sir’ so I’d probably be doing that.”

“...What the hell, let’s give it a shot. Don’t knock it until you try it, right?”

“Yessss! I’ll get the lube.”

………………… 

Peter enters his and Steve’s shared quarters in the tower quietly, but not  _ too _ quietly. When he was truly in stealth mode, his spidey skills would make him undetectable to even Steve’s enhanced hearing. That was a fun discovery and was very useful for pranking, but not tonight. Tonight he wants Steve to know he’s coming.

It’s with only a standard  _ human _ attempt at avoiding detection that he closes the door behind him and takes off his shoes. The only sound that marks his tip-toed traversal of the living room is the shuffle of his socks on the hardwood flooring. He can hear Steve’s breath hitch in the other room, and knows that he’s been detected. He wonders if Steve can hear his do the same.

He pauses for a moment with his hand on the knob of the spare bedroom, a neutral space in their home. His spider instincts are screaming at him, alerting him to lurking danger, but Peter ignores them. He knows that he’s safe as he turns the knob and slips silently into the dark room, closing the door behind it and leaning against it with a sigh.

Suddenly light floods the room as a bedside lamp snaps on, and Peter can’t help the flinch of surprise. The palm that was lying flat against the door panic-suctions to the surface on instinct, while the other jerks up into position to web any potential attackers.  _ Stupid reflexes. _ Half a second later he’s back in the swing of things, hands dangling uselessly by his side as he takes in the scene before him.

Steve is sitting in the middle of the messily unmade bed, back leaned against the headboard and arms crossed in a way that automatically makes Peter a little hard because of the way it makes his biceps bulge. He has his legs stretched out in front of him with his ankles crossed, looking for all the world like he’s been sitting there patiently waiting for ages. The disapproving scowl on his face looks even better framed by the beard Peter convinced him not to shave yet.  _ Score. _

“Peter, where the hell have you been?” Steve says, rumbling voice interrupting the silence and the contemplation. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I was out,” Peter answers with a shrug, rolling his eyes a little. “Whatever, it’s late, I’m home now.”

“Look at me when you speak to me,” orders Steve, and the command in his voice has Peter’s eyes snapping up to meet his involuntarily.  _ Definitely at least half of an untimely boner now, yep.  _ “What time is your curfew?”

“Ten, sir.”

Steve’s hips shift, and Peter knows he’s not the only one affected. “And what time is it now?”

“It’s ten thirty, sir.”

“Rules have a purpose, Peter. They’re there to make sure that everyone is safe,” Steve says sternly.  _ God, is he even acting or is this just him being himself? Pretty sure I’ve gotten this lecture before. _ “If I can’t trust you to follow the rules, how am I going to keep you safe? Hmm?”

Peter shrugs his shoulder again. “It was only thirty minutes, lay off.”

“Thirty minutes this time, and then next time it’s an hour, and then before you know it you’re running wild in the streets getting into god knows what kind of trouble.” Steve rubs the slight rasp of beard on his chin consideringly. “No son of mine is going to show that kind of disrespect in my house. No, I think you need a punishment.”

That word should definitely, 100%  _ not _ turn Peter on as much as it does. His protest of, “That’s bullshit!” comes out way too breathy to be believable. 

“Watch your mouth,” Steve snaps, “before you make things worse for yourself. You’re getting out of control. I give you a nice life and you don’t even give me respect in return. How do you think your phone gets paid for, in eye rolls?”

“Whatever, take it,” Peter grumbles, fishing his phone out of his sweatpants pocket and tossing it at Steve.

Steve catches it and immediately tosses it dismissively towards the bedside table. He must do it with just a little too much force, because they can both hear the screen crack upon impact. Steve flinches, guilt and apology flashing across his face, and Peter holds his breath as he waits to see whether their scene will be broken along with his dearly departed phone.

After a beat, Steve raises his chin defiantly and merely says, “You won’t need that anyways, since you’ll be staying here in the house with me for the next month. You’re grounded, Peter.”

“Fine, whatever, now leave me alone--”

“You know what, that’s it. Come here.” Steve points to the side of the bed right next to him, expression determined. Peter’s heart starts to pound as he moves slowly towards him. _ This is it. _ “Lay across my lap, on your stomach.”

Peter swallows and shakes his head, excitement and nerves tangling up inside his stomach like a chaotic flurry. “No, you can’t--”

_ “Now.” _

His breath is quick and shallow as Peter does as he’s told, draping himself across Steve’s outstretched legs. He tries not to rut his hard cock into the muscle of Steve’s thigh, burying his face in the sheets and trying to take a steadying breath. He can feel his hands shaking where they clutch at the bedding, fists tight like he’s braced for a fight.

Steve’s hands are gentle, though, as he pulls down the back of Peter’s sweatpants and boxers to expose his ass. He gives one cheek a borderline-lecherous squeeze, then soothes over the skin with his thumb. “Since you don’t seem to care about anything else, you’re going to get a spanking tonight. Thirty hits, since you thought it was no big deal to come home thirty minutes late. Okay?”

Peter knows that Steve is checking in, hears the uncertainty in his voice even as he feigns command, and he forces himself to relax a little more into the mattress as he nods. “Yes, sir,” he answers. His voice cracks on it. “Okay.”

“This is going to hurt, but it’s only because I love you.”

That’s all the warning Peter gets before the first blow lands. It’s more of a surprise than anything else, the harsh contact of skin against skin enough to make Peter flinch and gasp. The second one is less of a shock, and Peter writhes as the sting spreads across his skin. As soon as the sensation starts to fade a bit, there’s another, and then another, and then yet another. He knows this isn’t Steve’s full force, or even a fraction of it, but there’s enough power behind each swing that even Peter’s toughness is tested.

Eventually the stinging gives way to a sort of burn, the air in the room suddenly ice cold against his heated skin, and he wonders what he must look like to Steve right now. He’s panting heavily, wiggling against Steve half because he wants to get away from the ache that’s setting in and half because his cock is throbbing mercilessly where it rubs against Steve’s flannel pants. After what feels like a million hits, he pushes up off the bed and moves to sit up. “I can’t take any more,” he croaks, “I can’t--”

Steve’s hand wraps around the back of his neck and pushes him back down into position, pinning Peter to the bed just where he wants him, and Peter hears a pathetic whimper that he realizes is his own. “You can and you will,” Steve tells him, and Peter shudders. “Is there… anything you need to say to me?”

He’s waiting for a safeword, Peter realizes even through the haze that’s starting to take over his brain. Always keeping Peter safe, no matter what. He licks his lips and tries to make his voice sure when he answers. “No sir, nothing to say.”

“Good boy,” Steve says softly, and Peter mewls involuntarily once again. “Only ten more, okay? Then it’ll all be over.”

Peter is glad that Steve is apparently keeping count, because Peter is quickly losing track of all concept of time as his punishment winds to a close. He’s anchored in place by Steve’s hand still pressing gently but firmly down on the back of his neck and the sensation of his already tender skin being subjected to more abuse. By the time the final blow lands, Peter is lax in Steve’s grip.

“There we go, sweetheart, all done,” Steve murmurs. “Come here, give me a hug. It’s over now.”

He needs a little help to rearrange himself, Steve all but manhandling his sweatpants down his legs and moving Peter until he’s upright and straddling Steve’s lap, but at least this way he can be held. Steve’s arms are strong and secure around him, his kisses in Peter’s hair gentle and chaste, and Peter glows with it. He feels Steve reach for something on the nightstand, and a few seconds later there’s cool lotion being rubbed into Peter’s sore skin, making him hiss for a second before returning to his state as a limbless mess slumped on Steve’s chest.

“Is that better?” Steve hums as he works the lotion gently over Peter’s skin. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Peter answers with great difficulty, since his tongue feels somewhat akin to lead. He’s starting to lose some of that haze, but the glow is in full effect. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Steve sucks in a quick, silent breath, but continues without missing a beat. “You’re welcome, baby,” he answers quietly. “You know I’ll always take care of you.”

Peter kind of feels like crying at how unexpectedly tender the moment is, so he blinks tears away and clears his throat instead. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“You’re forgiven,” Steve tells him, hands running soothingly up his back now underneath his tee shirt. “Do you wanna talk about why you were late? You’ve never missed your curfew before.”

This wasn’t the end of the scene, wasn’t anywhere near it, and Peter becomes aware of the sensation of his still-hard cock as he continues. “I was with my boyfriend,” he meekly explains. “We were… we were trying to have sex for the first time tonight.”

“Is that right?” One of Steve’s hands slides down Peter’s spine, between his cheeks, to ghost one finger over Peter’s hole. “Did you let him inside here, baby?”

“No, daddy,” Peter gasps out, pushing his hips forward into Steve’s stomach. His brain is coming back online more each second. He has a part to play, and if he plays it well, he’s going to be feeling good very soon. “He put his fingers inside of me, but it hurt so I made him stop.”

“Good boy,” Steve says for the second time, and there’s no mistaking the shiver that runs through Peter. “I’m proud of you for stopping him. You should only ever feel good, that’s all. You deserve nothing less.”

“I thought it was supposed to make me feel good, but it didn’t, Daddy.” Steve’s hand tightens on Peter’s waist, and Peter smiles into the scruffy jawline he’s currently nuzzling.  _ Two can play that game. _ “Why didn’t it feel right?”

“Probably because it was some inexperienced little boy who didn’t know what he was doing,” Steve tsks, actually sounding irritated at the idea. He’s quiet for a second before he continues. “I hate the idea of someone hurting you that way, even on accident,” he confesses, and it’s Steve talking, not a persona.

“I know,” Peter murmurs softly, and scene be damned, he pulls back for a moment to give his boyfriend a tender kiss. “It’s okay. I’m here with you now.”

Steve nods a little, fortified, and clears his throat a little. “You need someone experienced for your first time,” he says lowly, all fatherly wisdom once more. “Someone who’ll make you feel good and do it right. Someone who knows your body.”

“But I don’t have anyone like that,” Peter replies, biting his lip for effect. “No one except you. Will you show me how it’s supposed to go when you’re with a boy? Can you make me feel good?”

He drops his hand to his flushed cock as he does so, and Steve follows the movement and apparently loses all track of whatever he was about to say. Instead, he presses Peter close to him with a hand in the center of his back and flips them smoothly, depositing Peter smoothly on the mattress with Steve between his bent knees. Peter’s stomach flutters excitedly --between his legs was his favorite place for Steve to be, after all-- and Steve looks just as eager as he gazes down at Peter.

“First thing to know,” he says roughly, blue eyes hungry, “is never let a boy skimp on foreplay. Let him work you up nice and good first. Let him kiss you everywhere--” Steve sucks a kiss into Peter’s collarbone, “--and touch you all over--” Steve drags his thumbs over Peter’s hardened nipples, “--until you’re begging for it.”

“And then what?” Peter prompts shakily, because he doesn’t need any more foreplay. Any more of that and they’ll be skipping the whole middle part unexpectedly.

“Well, once he’s got you going,” Steve continues as he reaches down and gives Peter’s cock an affirming squeeze that almost makes Peter lose it right then and there, “the second thing you should know is that you should never waste your time with someone who won’t suck your cock. Some boys think they’re too good for it, but those boys don’t deserve you. You deserve it all.”

He ducks down and takes Peter into his mouth, then, and Peter nearly howls with the sudden sensation. He tries in vain to keep his hips still as Steve bobs up and down the length a few times before pulling off. “Don’t stop,” Peter whines.

Steve grins at him. “Still spoiled, I see. Listen, I know this is going to be quick for you, and that’s okay. I want you to feel good. Just remember, it’s always polite to warn someone when you’re about to come. That way he can make sure to swallow every drop you give him, okay?”

Peter nods his head frantically, because he’ll agree to literally anything Steve says right now if it means his cock goes back inside of Steve’s mouth already. It only takes a second for his obedience to be rewarded, and then Steve is back at it. It feels like it’s been hours since Peter got hard, even though that can’t actually be true, and the feeling of Steve’s lips suctioned tight around his hard cock, dragging up and down--

“I’m gonna come, Daddy,” he gasps, because Steve was  _ not _ wrong in his predictions here. Steve hums in acknowledgement and doesn’t stop, just continues bobbing steadily as Peter bucks his hips up into Steve’s mouth once, twice, and then shudders a release. True to his word, Steve takes it all, powerful muscles of his throat flexing as he swallows with each pulse of it. He doesn’t stop until Peter taps one hand weakly against the mattress in a bid for relief.

Steve makes his way back up Peter’s body and kisses at his throat while Peter catches his breath. “Anything you wanna say to me?” he asks after a moment.

“Thank you, sir,” Peter answers dazedly.

“No, I--” Steve laughs into Peter’s shoulder breathily. “You’re welcome, but that isn’t what I meant. I was checking… do you want me to stop? We can be finished now, if you want.”

Ah, another check-in. Waiting for Peter to give him the safeword that would signal the end of the scene. Peter lifts a hand and runs it down Steve’s torso until he finds his still-clothed cock, hard and so very neglected throughout this whole encounter. Steve hisses and closes his eyes at the contact.

“No, I don’t want you to stop,” Peter says clearly. “Aren’t you going to show me how it feels to get filled up by someone who loves me?”

“God, yes--” Steve chokes out, then bats Peter’s hand away. “Of course I will baby, hold on.”

He rises then, hands making quick work of his clothing until he stands there, naked and drop dead fucking gorgeous, by the side of the bed. He opens up the nightstand drawer and retrieves the bottle of lube stashed inside  _ \--note to self, make sure to remove that before using this guest room for actual guests-- _ before returning to his rightful place between Peter’s legs.

“Make sure you always stretch carefully,” Steve narrates as he starts working fingers slowly inside of Peter. He’s already somewhat stretched --for the sake of authenticity, of course, not because Peter was overeager earlier-- but Steve is gentle nonetheless. “If you let some impatient boy rush this part, he could hurt you. It shouldn’t hurt, it should feel amazing. Especially--” Steve crooks his fingers and presses tantalizingly against a spot just to the side of Peter’s prostate, “--if he knows what he’s doing.”

Peter’s cock is already starting to get hard again, which isn’t really that unheard of considering his advanced healing factor and its beautiful correlation with his recovery period, but he also thinks it’s just the effect Steve has on him. “More,” he pleads, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulder with one hand and fisting his cock with the other. “You-- fuck, you feel so good!”

“Language,” admonishes Steve, but the effect is ruined by the way he complies. He’s got three fingers now, circling relentlessly on Peter’s prostate the way he knows good and well Peter loves, and then he’s lowering his head to mimic the motion with his tongue on Peter’s nipple. By the time he switches to the other side --blowing a torturously cool stream of air over the wet nub before he goes-- Peter is back at full mast and ready for more.

“Please, I’m ready,” he pants, trying to use his knee to knock Steve’s fingers out of him and make way for something better. “Please, Daddy.”

“I’ve got you, baby, I promise,” Steve shushes, and shifts so that his cock is lined up with Peter’s entrance. He pushes in slowly, carefully, cruelly. “If you’re going to let some stupid boy put his cock in you, you have to be safe. Make sure he wears a condom. But you don’t need that with Daddy, do you?”

Hearing Steve refer to himself like that makes Peter forget how to speak English for a few moments, so Steve is already pulling out and fucking back into him when Peter answers. The firm thrusts sliding home inside of Peter make his words breathy and jagged. “I’m safe with you.”

“Damn right, you are,” Steve groans, then tucks his head into the crook of Peter’s neck and lets go.

Peter’s legs fold up around Steve’s lower back, moving himself out of the way so that Steve can work unhindered. He’s always been secretly of the opinion that Steve was made for him, because they fit so perfectly together. His cock drags along Peter’s insides and lights him up, hitting all of Peter’s favorite spots relentlessly. It has to be fate, there was no other explanation.

(Of course, Steve would probably argue that  _ Peter _ was made for  _ him, _ since he was born over 80 years later than Steve, but who’s really worried about semantics when it feels like this?)

Steve has ahold of his cock now, stroking as he continues to move inside of Peter, and Peter just wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders to hold on tight and let himself be taken away. “No boy from school is going to be able to give this to you,” Steve murmurs into his ear, kissing at the lobe. “They won’t be able to last like me. You feel so good, they wouldn’t last three pumps inside of you. Isn’t it better this way?”

Peter tries to answer, he really does, but the words don’t come out. He just sort of mewls, and that’s apparently enough for Steve to be encouraged. He speeds up the motion of his hips, supporting himself on one hand while the other holds onto Peter’s hip for leverage. His mouth finds Peter’s on instinct, and suddenly they’re kissing, filthy and desperate, and Peter gasps into it as he finds himself suddenly on the verge of orgasm yet again.

“Please-- I’m gonna--”

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve hurries to say, kissing Peter over and over again. “Come for Daddy so I can fill you up just like you need, okay?”

It doesn’t take any more prompting than that before Peter is coming, grasping at whatever part of Steve he can reach, and Steve is moaning a mantra of  _ good boy, so perfect, I love you  _ somewhere above him as he follows suit. Peter feels it all the way down to his toes, and if he had something beyond his toes, he’d probably feel it there too. 

When Steve pulls out, there’s a trail of wetness that follows that makes Peter shiver. Steve shushes him quietly. “Shh, hang on a second, I’ll be right back and we’ll get you cleaned up, sweetheart. Stay right there.” He’s gone for a minute, and when he returns it’s with a damp washcloth that he uses to swipe carefully through the mess on Peter’s stomach and between his legs. “There, that’s better. You okay?”

“Yes sir. C’mere,” Peter mumbles, opening his arms greedily for Steve to come closer.

Steve does him one better, pulling the blankets out from beneath Peter’s body and then pulling it back over the both of them. He rearranges Peter so that they’re spooned together, Peter’s back against Steve’s chest. “Queens. I love you.”

“Could have said that without ending the scene,” Peter murmurs with a smile, twisting around a bit to seek out a kiss. “I love you, too. Fuck, that was good.”

“Being called Daddy should  _ not _ be that hot.”

“Should I not use that name again?”

“I… never said that.”

“Of course you didn’t, you dirty old man. And don’t think you’re off the hook for destroying my phone, either, you menace.”

“Shut up and go to sleep. We’ll get Tony to give you a new one in the morning.”

“You take such good care of me.”


	3. Doctor/Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tags for this chapter:  
> doctor/patient roleplay, light humiliation, laughing during sex, anal fingering, come swallowing

It’s remarkable how little time it takes for Steve to give up any and all reservations he has about the ever-expanding frontier of roleplay in the bedroom. After two of some of the most erotic experiences of his life, Steve barely bats an eye when Peter is scrolling through a list of “15 Sexy Roleplay Ideas to Make Your Woman Cream” and comes across the idea of medical kink. I mean, hell, after he’s already accepted sexual favors as a bribe and taken his son’s virginity, what’s a lab coat between lovers?

The logistics of the scene are a little challenging, since their quarters don’t exactly give off the right vibe, but Steve isn’t a master tactician for nothing. There’s a medical floor to the tower which goes largely unused, except in the case that one of the Avengers gets injured or sick. You’d think that would mean a full time staff, given their obscenely high-risk lifestyle, but fortunately they’re good enough at their jobs that it’s only on very rare occasions that the state of the art medical suites do anything except collect dust. 

All it had taken was a single text to Tony that he needed to borrow an exam room, and they had his assurance that they wouldn’t be disturbed. He hadn’t even asked why. Of course, given that Tony was  _ Tony, _ he probably already knew. Steve is saving the contemplation of that fresh horror for another day. 

When Steve opens the door, he has to work to contain the fond smile that threatens to come over his face at the sight of Peter perched on the end of the exam table looking a little nervous and a lot excited. His feet are swinging a little, heels tapping quietly against the metal side of his perch, and the paper crinkles when he sits up straighter upon Steve’s entrance.

“Mr… Parker, is it?” Steve says slowly, pretending to flip up a page on his clipboard. “I’m Dr. Rogers, and I’ll be taking care of you today. What brings you in?”

“Just an annual checkup,” Peter answers, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Making sure that everything is okay.”

“Sounds good. Well, let’s start with your vitals and then we’ll see where we need to go from there.”

If Peter notices the fact that Steve doesn’t know his way around an exam room and definitely doesn’t know how to use any of this equipment, he’s kind enough not to let on. He’s quiet and compliant as Steve uses the little rolling stand next to the exam table to wrap an electronic blood pressure cuff around his upper arm, and opens his mouth easily to accept the thermometer. Steve even makes a brief show of clipping the little doohickey onto Peter’s fingertip for a minute while the machines whir.

The readout on the screen has a bunch of numbers that quite frankly mean nothing to Steve, but he still beams at Peter and says, “Perfect!” before he writes them down on the clipboard. Peter, the frighteningly adorable thing, actually lights up at the praise. “Did you have any particular concerns? Anything been bothering you?”

“Well, sort of,” Peter says sheepishly as Steve puts the equipment away once more. “I’m a little worried about things… in the bedroom.”

He gestures to his lap, and Steve notices he’s starting to get hard. “That’s pretty unusual for a young, healthy man like you. Are you sexually active, Mr. Parker?”

Immediately, Peter’s ears go pink. “Yes, I am. I have a boyfriend.”

Scribbles on the clipboard. “Okay. Are you having performance issues?”

“Not exactly, but I just… I want to be the best for him. His perfect boy. I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to be better for him.” He looks up at Steve through his lashes, and Steve’s heart squeezes.  _ Impossible. You’re perfection already.  _ “Can you help me?”

“Of course I can,” Steve answers at once. “That’s what I’m here to do, help you. Let’s see what we can do for you, Peter.”

That was as far as Peter’s knowledge of the scene went. He’d given Steve pretty much free reign here, the only restrictions being their usual bedroom boundaries and the one special addition of no needles. Peter is confident now in Steve’s ability to plan and execute a successful scene, and Steve would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel spectacularly proud, to be trusted that way.

So it comes as a surprise to Peter when Steve leans back against the counter and tells him, “First things first, I’ll need you to strip.”

It’s far from the first time that Peter has undressed for Steve, but he does so with all of the awkwardness of a blushing virgin-- which probably accounts for how much it turns Steve on, despite Peter doing so in the most clinical, least sexy way possible. He gets down to his boxers, clothes heaped on the chair off to one side of the exam table, and then stands there in the middle of the room with his hands clasped self-consciously in front of his crotch.

“I need you to remove those too,” Steve prompts, gesturing with his pen. “I need to see everywhere your boyfriend sees. You want me to help you, don’t you?”

“Yes, doctor,” Peter answers with a visible gulp, then sheds his last defense. He moves his hands to grip the edge of the exam table behind him, fingers crinkling the paper as he seems to have to force himself not to hide.

Steve is grateful that he does so, because it gives Steve free reign to drink him in. Peter had been right at the start of all this when he said that roleplay would allow them to explore each other in new ways; certainly, this was never something Steve had been able to do. He considers himself a man of great self-control, generally, but that always seems to crumble with regards to Peter. Any other time Peter has stood before him naked, Steve has never been able to look for long without touching.

Now, with the constraints of the scene keeping him in his seat --at least for the time being-- Steve gets to have a good long look at the love of his life. He’s gorgeous and lithe and warm from the tip of his head all the way down to his toes, and Steve decides immediately that he’ll be spending his evening putting his artistic talents and photographic memory to use recreating this vision with charcoal and paper. 

Later, though. He’s got better things to do at the moment.

“Let’s see here,” Steve muses, putting pen to paper once more as if to take notes. “Pretty face with soft lips, very kissable. Hair just long enough to get a handful of, good. Drop your jaw for me? Excellent, that’s a perfect mouth for sucking a cock.” Peter sucks in a little gasp and snaps his jaw shut on instinct, like he can’t believe Steve went there, and Steve can’t resist shooting him a wink in return. “How much of him can you fit in your mouth, Peter?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Peter responds, lips twitching with a smile. “He’s very big. But if I concentrate hard I can fit a bit more down my throat.”

Steve’s cock is very interested in that excellent suggestion, but he ignores it. “Excellent, that’s what I like to hear. Moving on… good muscle tone, nice perky nipples. Just the right hint of softness where you need it. Hips just right for a handhold. Gorgeous thighs, could serve for a place for your significant other to get off if he’s in a hurry. Everything looks fairly good so far, Peter. Now, let’s talk about your cock.”

Peter’s body had been responding steadily to Steve’s generous praise, and now a little bead of moisture appears at the tip of his cock as if answering to its name. Steve forces his eyes away so that he can stand and place his clipboard on the counter, then retrieve a pair of purple gloves to pull on. By the time he turns back around to face Peter, the boy is biting his lip nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says soothingly, and it’s a toss up whether that comes from Steve or Dr. Rogers. “We’re almost done with this part of the exam. These are the most important parts of you, down here, if you’re trying to please your partner. I have to be very thorough now, okay?”

“Yes, doctor,” Peter answers with a jerky nod, reaching for his cock.

Steve quickly but gently pushes his hand aside. “Allow me. I’m the professional.”

The barrier of the gloves, though thin, lends an entirely new sensation as Steve wraps his hand loosely around Peter’s length and gives him a barely-there stroke. It must feel different for Peter too, because his hips flinch a little like he isn’t sure whether he wants to push forward or pull away. Steve pauses for a moment to search his face, checking for signs of discomfort, but he gives no sign of wanting to signal a stop. Steve strokes him again, and this time Peter licks his lips ever so slightly.

Returning to his task, Steve runs his thumb over Peter’s slit and allows the latex of his glove to get slick with precome. He doesn’t even pretend to look at what he’s doing, too busy watching the fluttering emotions on Peter’s face. “Good size. Nice and clean. Does your partner enjoy giving you oral?”  _ It’s a top-5 pastime. _

“I don’t get any complaints,” Peter shivers.

Steve lets his hand go lower, rolling Peter’s balls in his palm. “These feel a little full,” he says lowly, tugging slightly just to make Peter’s breath hitch. “You’re not being neglected at home by this boyfriend of yours, are you?”

“Never,” Peter fires back without a hint of hesitation.

This is spiraling rapidly out of control, too intimate, too weirdly erotic, and Steve forces himself to take a step back, figuratively and literally. He takes a deep breath and consults his clipboard with his ungloved hand just to give himself a moment to recollect himself. He clears his throat and asks, “Are you typically on the receiving end of penetration during your sexual encounters?”

“Yeah, mostly,” Peter grins when Steve glances back over to him.

“I think there’s one more place I should take a look at, then. Turn around and lean over onto the exam table for me, please.” Steve hears Peter’s gulp as he does as instructed, bracing himself on his forearms against the crinkly paper. “Open up for me, please, Mr. Parker,” he says lowly as he steps up behind Peter, running the fingertips of one hand up the inside of Peter’s thigh.

Peter spreads his legs at Steve’s nudging, and Steve continues to trail his fingers up between the two globes of his ass until his gloved fingertips run across Peter’s hole. “Nice and tight, that’s good,” Steve remarks in a croak, distracted by the way his cock is suddenly throbbing with the desire to be tucked inside of that hole  _ right fucking now. _ “Let’s see what we’re working with on the inside, hmm?”

When Steve takes a step back to grab the lube packet from the pocket of Peter’s discarded pants --because they’d both agreed that they didn’t want to take authenticity so far as to use whatever cheapo medical lubricant they could find in the office-- he can see the little shiver of anticipation that runs down Peter’s bare spine. It doesn’t matter that the fingers Steve slicks up are protected by a barrier of latex that usually isn’t there. Peter has always expressed an all-consuming love for the size, shape, and skill of Steve’s hands.

And so it is with absolutely no protest that Peter allows Steve to work him open, quietly, clinically, until two fingers are tucked snugly inside of him. He has a little sweat gathering at the nape of his neck that Steve very badly wants to taste, and a little shake in the arms that are holding him up. His cock is as hard as Steve’s now, the wet tip crinkling against the exam paper every now and again when he fails to brace himself against the onslaught of Steve’s motions.

“Now let’s see,” Steve muses breathlessly, “how reactive we are if I--”

He doesn’t have to finish thinking of a doctor-like way of saying ‘swirl my fingers around your prostate the way that you like’ because Peter is already reacting beautifully, all but howling with pleasure and bucking back into Steve as the exam paper beneath his hands gets viciously crumpled. “Holy shit,” Peter croaks, head thrown back and eyes jammed shut, tempting Steve once again to take a taste.

He has other goals to accomplish, however. Steve leans over and grabs something from a nearby drawer without easing up, unwrapping it one-handed as quickly as he can. “Very responsive, that’s good. Stay with it, Mr. Parker, just a little longer so I can get a sample from you.”

“A--?” Peter opens his eyes and looks back at Steve in brief bewilderment, then follows the line of the arm wrapped around him down until he takes in the small sample cup that Steve is holding before him. He gasps out a surprised laugh, closing his eyes again even as he moves one hand to his cock to better aim it into the little plastic container. “That’s fucked up,” he giggles breathlessly. “That is  _ so--” _

But he never finishes his protest, because Steve shifts his hand until he can apply pressure to Peter’s prostate from the outside as well and Peter sucks in a breath as his body tenses. He holds almost perfectly still as he spills into the sample cup, with the exception of the heaving of his chest as he breathes. A little dribble of come misses the cup and runs down the back of Steve’s fingers, and he hurries to lick it up in a  _ distinctly _ unprofessional manner before Peter has time to open his eyes.

“Excellent,” Steve says as he takes a step back, screwing the lid onto the sample cup and placing it on the counter. He peels the glove off and throws it in the trash can, then pretends to make a note on his trusty clipboard. He’s trying to suppress a smile, because Peter still looks amused at this turn of events from his position still bent over the exam table. “That’s a great sample, it should be able to tell us everything we need. I think I only need one more thing from you, and then you’ll be all set.”

“I don’t think I have another drop to give you, doc,” Peter answers with false shyness, fluttering his lashes at Steve. “I’m all wrung out.”

That’s a damn lie, as Steve well knows, because he’s seen Peter come four times in a single night when Steve is working his hardest, but he doesn’t care to chase that particular rabbit down the hole at the moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t need any more samples from you, Mr. Parker. I just need to give you a little medicine before you go. Lie back on the table for me, please.”

Once again, Peter does as instructed without protest, but this time when Steve approaches there’s laughter readily apparent in his eyes. Steve does his best to hide his answering smile as he slides out the step stool from the bottom of the exam table and steps up onto it so that his hips --and the obvious tent in his pants-- are just inches from Peter’s head.

“Almost done here,” Steve says, hands dropping to his belt buckle to start working his pants open. “The procedure is very simple. I just need you to open your mouth so I can give you the medicine, and wait til I tell you to swallow it. Does that make sense?” He pulls out his cock, so long neglected, and holds it with the tip just above Peter’s lips.

“Sure,” Peter answers a bit sarcastically, and opens his mouth wide to take what he’s given.

He’s waiting for Steve to fuck his mouth, Steve can tell, but instead Steve just strokes his length, firm and quick, barely out of reach. Peter’s eyes stay locked on his, amused and aroused and so full of focused affection for Steve that it doesn’t take long at all until Steve starts to feel that familiar anticipatory tension in his belly that means he’s about to come crashing down the other side of this peak. 

“Don’t swallow,” he grunts in a reminder before he starts coming, aiming his cock so that his ropes of come fall on Peter’s patiently waiting tongue and fill his mouth just as Peter had filled that cold plastic cup just moments before. His jaw trembles a little, fighting against the instinct to swallow as Steve empties himself with a moan.

Peter remains reclined there, motionless, mouth full of pearly come, as Steve tucks himself back into his clothing and gets everything securely zipped and buckled once more. There’s a single drop of come dewing on the edge of one plush lip, quivering as Peter breathes steadily through his nose and waits for instructions.

Steve gives none, instead taking his hand and cupping the bottom of Peter’s jaw to push it closed and cover his mouth with one strong palm, finger and thumb coming together to pinch Peter’s nostrils closed, cutting off his air. Peter briefly struggles, all instinct, trying to draw in air helplessly, before he reflexively swallows his mouthful in a series of desperate little gulps.

“There we go, all better,” Steve hums, releasing Peter so that he can suck in some air and even out his breathing once more. “I’ve got a prescription for you to fill, but for now you’ve got a clean bill of health.”

Peter sits up on the table and takes the slip of paper Steve hands to him, eyes scanning the words quickly.  _ Diagnosis: you are perfection. Treatment: all of the kisses you can handle. Queens xoxo _

“You’re a dork and a menace,” Peter snorts, leaning up for a kiss that Steve readily gives. “Your dialogue could have used a little work on that one, gotta say. The cheese factor was through the roof.”

“I tried my best,” Steve laughs, helping him down from the table. “You try not sounding like really bad porn when you’re giving someone a full body exam for purely sexual reasons.”

“That was kind of humiliating, in a hot way, having you look me over like a piece of meat,” contemplates Peter, “but I could do without the medical angle. I’m not sure the aromas of latex and antiseptic are doing it for me. And don’t even get me started on  _ that,”  _ he adds with an accusatory finger pointed at the cup on the counter.

“Hey, just be grateful I didn’t take the easy out and go for using the stirrups,” Steve fires back, even as he sweeps the filled cup into the trash. “I could have done a lot worse.”

“You did amazing,” Peter says quietly, softening as he tugs Steve in so he can wrap his arms around the larger man’s waist and snuggle close. “That was fun, really. Just maybe not a dynamic I’d care to explore again.”

Steve kisses the top of Peter’s head and wraps his arms around Peter’s shoulders in return. “Fair enough. I’ll hang up my lab coat. Time to retire.”

“Time to get clothes on and go get lunch, actually,” Peter says lightly, wiggling out of their embrace to reach for his clothes. “Last one there buys the pizza.”

“Fine, but no using your webs. That’s an unfair advantage.”

Peter’s suspicious squint is briefly interrupted by the shirt he tugs down over his head. “Fine, but if I win on foot you have to tell Tony why you borrowed this room, too.”

“What? No, there’s no way in hell I’m going to--”

“--going to catch up to me?” Peter yells over his shoulder, already halfway down the hallway of the medical wing. “I already knew that, slowpoke!”

Steve remembers to shuck off the lab coat before he goes tearing off after Peter, but only barely. Cleaning up the room can wait until later. He has a spider to squash first.


End file.
